The most important part of this project is to connect to your intention for it – not your expectation of it.

I say that because it may be a project that you love, but your kids aren’t interested in it. If you’re expectation is to all sit around drinking sparkling cider and merrily creating a time capsule and they would rather not, you’re not going to enjoy this at all.

But if your intention is to capture memories for yourself (and maybe for them later), then you will be able to recognize that you can capture those memories in a dozen ways that feel good to everyone (even if that means they head off to play or watch movies and you work merrily toward your intention).

Some intentions to consider:

• Connection – If the whole family is interested, keep connection – not the idea of how connection “should” look – at the forefront of your mind.
• Fun – Pretty self-explanatory. If you’re not having fun, shift.
• Capturing Memories – Slowing down, creating mindfulness around our experiences, around where we’ve been and where we’d like to go, spending time with the experiences that have fed us or taught us.
• Creating Memories and Traditions – Just creating these New Year’s time capsules will create memories and traditions that you and your family have the opportunity to look back on. Sorta wraps all four of these intentions into one.

The second most important part is to decide when you’d like to open these New Year’s time capsules. Since I don’t know the actual term for it, I’m going to refer to this as the “opening date”.

You can do so the following New Year, 5 years from now or depending on your kids’ ages, you can create a shoebox full of annual time capsules to give to them as adults.

If your kids would like to participate in this, let them decide…and let them change their mind if they’d like to! Remember: Intention, not expectation!

Photo Source

What You’ll Need For Your New Year’s Time Capsules

Like I said, there are many ways to do this, so I’m going to offer you a few ideas to get the juices flowing. You can do one or all or some combination of these ideas to create your own family time capsule. (I hope you’ll share your ideas in the comments below!)

1. A  Letter to Your Child/ren – You can write a letter to your children, elaborating on their past year: their favorite things, their best friends and what they’ve done. Add a recent photo (or photos) of them to the envelope, seal it, label it with the child’s name, date it and write down it’s “opening date”. This is probably the simplest (although possibly most time consuming, depending on how it’s done).
2. A Letter From Your Child/ren – If your kids would like to be involved, I do NOT recommend asking them to write an entire letter. That’s a lot of pressure for most kids (although some will love it!). I’d recommend printing out something like a questionnaire that they can answer, and leaving plenty of space to write or color pictures. Some questions to get you started:
• What was your favorite part of the year?
• What was your least favorite part?
• Other favorites: toy/game, movie, clothing, color, activity, food, etc.
• Who was your best friend this year?
• The question can obviously vary based on the child’s age. For older kids who are interested, you may look up writing prompts to get some really juicy answers for them to read later!
• You might also add some basic info to these, such as gas prices, political leaders, major events, etc.
3. A Fortune Teller Letter – This one is a lot of fun for kids. Ask questions that allow your children to play Fortune Teller with their answers, essentially trying to “predict” the upcoming year. (These are good ones to read at the end of the next year to see who was closest. Think of questions such as:
• How much do you think gas will cost at the end of next year, five years, ten years?
• Who do you predict will win the next election(s) and why?
• What one amazing world event do you expect in the coming year(s)?
• What one amazing thing do YOU expect to do in the coming year(s)?
• What’s going to change about [you/me/someone or something else]
• What do you think you’ll be doing in [choose a month or year]?
• What would you LIKE to be doing in [choose a month or year]?
• You can also add questions about one another or other people you know, predicting what they might do later in life, who they might marry, where they’ll live, etc (um, might wanna keep it positive – don’t want to open something hurtful in the future).
4. A Photo Time Capsule – These are really fun. Take film photos of everyone (no digitals, since you’ll have copies of those and they won’t feel all time-capsuley that way, unless you’ll print them out and delete or hide the digital copies). Look at them one time, then place them in the time capsule. You can take photos of everyone doing something they love or showing off their favorite things. You can take good-natured funny photos (as long as you think everyone will find them funny). You can even create a video to burn to DVD and lock it away.

Saving Your Time Capsule

After you’ve decided WHAT you want to create, and WHEN you want to reopen your time capsule, your next step is to find a secure place in which to put everything.

Some ideas: If you’re doing letters to be open the next year, you can label them and place them on your desk. If you’re doing something bigger or longer-term, consider a small safe to hold your New Years time capsule in (without worry of water or fire damage). You might even want to use a safe deposit box, or a canister of some kind (like a metal coffee canister) to bury them.

You can even do a virtual time capsule with letters and photos, saving everything online (they even offer “virtual time capsule” services). And let the kids go wild with decorating or creating a really artful was to encapsulate the project if they want to!

Just remember to think long-term!

You don’t want to forget about it (setting a reminder on your online calendar is a good idea) and you don’t want to leave it or bury it somewhere that you might not have access to later (or where someone else might find it).

But then that goes back to intention.

If the time capsule is lost or forgotten, your intention of connection, creating and capturing memories, and having fun (rather than your expectation of how that intention would look) can still be honored and enjoyed.

This year I intend to write a letter to Zeb and will continue writing these letters to give to him as an adult. We may also do a time capsule together, but 12 year old boys tend to be rather unenthusiastic about these kind of things (or maybe that’s just my 12 year old boy ).

What ideas can you add to this list?

This is my newest piece of art, a gift from the lovely Mari Dieumegard and I can’t wait to hang it in the new rig (I plan to have a real desk again – this will be above it).

I love this print, called Balance, especially right now. It reminds me to keep moving, to be daring, to go for it. It reminds me to keep my head up and my eyes on the goal but to enjoy the view and the company. It tells me to keep my arms and my heart open. And it feels powerful to me, but also carefree, as if it says “Look what amazing thing I can do on an average Sunday afternoon.”

Life has been a tightrope these past few weeks and through the madness I’ve had to harness that carefree, open-hearted power. I’ve had to remind myself of what I am capable of on any given day. It doesn’t always look like such an amazing daredevil feat but it sure feels like one.

I’m launching my new website on Tuesday with a BIG giveaway here on the blog and having a very real deadline with very cool sponsors can be a little daunting. Add to the mix a deep desire to not sacrifice our personal life, while also handling the emotional upheaval of so many changes and it was enough to elicit concern from loved ones.

It reminds me of this one from StoryPeople:

“Most people she never tells about the tightrope because she doesn’t want
to listen to their helpful comments from the ground.”

Yes, I was on a tightrope, one that looked unnecessary or dangerous at times. But I walked across it. It had its messy moments and moments where I nearly fell, but I took a risk. And for that I’m proud.

I’m also proud that I DO tell people about the tightrope, the challenge, the maddening moments of frustration, the days I want to quit. I’m proud that I have the courage to be vulnerable. It’s uncomfortable (for me and sometimes for others) but it makes my accomplishments all the more real for me.

I look at these two pieces of art and they remind me of what I so often forget: I am open, accepting of a challenge, ready to be daring, push my own envelope, take risks and grow. And as the madness winds down and I have time to lounge, I can look at those personal achievements and hurdles and feel good.

So how did I find this balance through the mad rush of work?

By accepting it wouldn’t look the way I thought it would.

It didn’t look like equaling doled out chunks of time. It didn’t look like me keeping up with my early morning routines or my physical therapy. It didn’t always look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Instead it looked like me passionately devouring my Task List, sometimes for hours on end, several days in a row. A few late nights and hectic days and lots of personal successes and reminders from my husband to eat or take a break. Then, right around the time my eyes went crossed, I’d pull back for days or weeks or even months at a time. I worked went I felt inspired to work, played when I felt inspired to play.

With Zeb immersed in a new computer game, we often sat side-by-side on our laptops, he sharing his accomplishments while I shared mine. And when you make your own schedule you get to do cool things like take your son on a lunch date or curl up in bed with your hubby all morning or stay in your pajamas on laundry day.

When I think of balance, I don’t think of how many hours I spend in each area of my life. I think of how I feel: how much time I spend doing what I love and enjoying it. That feels balanced.

That’s the purpose of life for me: enjoying the hell out of the adventure of living. And I feel balanced.

What’s balance look like in your life?

Not long before we hit the road I had a vivid dream about a beautiful tree painted on the wall of the RV. It was tall, tendrillar and strong. Just days after the dream I came across Christine Satori’s art and her gorgeous painted family trees. It struck me as so similar to my dream!

Justin and I have had the intention of leaving our walls blank from the beginning, to be filled throughout our travels with art and photos we found along the road. I’m so happy to have started our adornment with our very own family tree from Christine.

Christine made this art custom for our family. I had no idea what to expect but this took my breath.

We’re all three in love with it and amazed at the way she captures our family: The three separate and unique pieces making the whole; the two love birds in the middle; the strong, independent one who’s perched himself on top. The colors, the orientation, the Dickinson quote. Christine could not have made it more perfect for us.

I think Zeb’s reaction was best. He excitedly offered to take down his wolf photos hung over the dinnette (which doubles as his bed) so that we could hang the canvases in their place. And all day he just kept looking at them and saying how awesome they were and how awesome Christine is. And I must say, Justin and I definitely agree.

Thank you so much, Christine, for sharing your beautiful work with our family. We are touched and amazed and so extremely in love with our tree.

In fact, until last week, there were three truths he held firm to:

1. That only women made good artists
2. That he was not artistic, nor interested in anything art related
3. That at some point in the next few years he would have to outgrow his beloved LEGO collection

He no longer believes any of that.

In fact, several nights ago he declared that he is going to be a sculptor, and that he wanted to go to bed early so he could get started on a new project the next day. The last words he spoke before falling to sleep that night were, “Tomorrow begins my sculpting career.”

Why the change? Zeb met one person who inspired him to view things differently.

His name is Chris. He’s a sculptor and he, his painter wife and their 4 year old daughter are currently living next to us in their RV.

They’ve had fun building light sabers out of PVC and duct tape, and the kids all love the dragons he made out of melted plastic trash.

But I think what first intrigued Zeb was that Chris loves LEGO so much he travels with his collection! For awhile now Zeb had assumed that growing older meant giving up the fun of childhood; Chris and his creative nature prove you can be a fun-loving kid at any age.

Over the weekend, Chris held a “funshop” for the kids, showing them how to make their own dragons from wire and modeling clay. Zeb, the once self-critical perfectionist, is IN LOVE with his creations. He excitedly points out how he executed his ideas, what didn’t work and what he wants to try next time. My heart swells just thinking about it all.

This is what I was hoping to find on the road: awesome people who help us open up and expose more of the world and all its options to our son. Two months into this trip and we’re already hearing things from him we no longer thought we would hear, we’re seeing him do things passionately he once swore he couldn’t do and we’re watching him take pride in his work.

A big, huge thank you to Chris and Becky for your inspiration, patience and kindness.

Between his new-found passion for sculpting, the dozen unschooling kids he’s spent every day with, the endless games they play and the beautiful surroundings, he’s already dreading our upcoming departure date. And with all the fun we’ve had with the NuRVers this past week, so are we.

To see more of what we’ve been up to, check out the Happy Janssen’s daily blog posts.

I used a bunch of old greeting cards, watercolors, embroidery thread, and Mod Podge to make this…this…whatever it is. I don’t know what I’ll do with it but I really enjoyed the process of making it.

Then I opened one of Zeb’s sketch books (How To Draw Mythical Creatures or some such title) and followed line for line. It wasn’t nearly as fun as allowing the colors to drip and meld and allowing what comes, but it was fun to stretch myself more methodically.

It reminded me of my dad’s sketches – the one he drew before his hands lost feeling. I use to marvel at his talent and lament my own lack. And for a few peaceful hours I felt some small connection to him I hadn’t felt before. Like we were both artists, even if I had to practically copy mine.

I have to admit I was a little taken aback by the fact that someone viewed me as creative. To be fair, they are newly following me, so maybe they just don’t know that a couple recent tweets don’t really constitute creative genius.

But at the same time the title “creative mother” felt a bit inspiring in and of itself. As I read it a little something twanged inside my head and stated with a bit too much pride, “Why the hell not?” I may not show my creativity fully or often (or in some ways, ever) but that doesn’t mean the title still doesn’t belong to me. “Dammit, I am creative and I don’t care what anyone says!”

Look at him just run into the unknown!

This word, creativity, has been on the tip of my tongue for the past few weeks. It’s not something I’ve dedicated much deep thought or time to but it’s there, dancing around me.

And despite my inactivity on the matter, I have been feeling insanely creative. I’ve been feeling inspired to create. I can feel it bubbling. But even in those moments where I almost let it out, I routinely put it away, allowing myself to become distracted or interrupted. Motherhood, obligations, huge tasks we’re trying to accomplish. I haven’t even made time to blog!

I won’t say I haven’t enjoy it, all the time spent in frenetic activity. I’ve even enjoyed keeping some thoughts to myself, letting them play out in my mind, not writing them out for all posterity and then losing them amidst the commotion.

There’s a time for that. I think.

But there’s also a time for more. And I’m not even exactly sure what that means!

Loved watching this woman sway and dance under the water,
hands in the air without inhibitions.

I want to be creating more, not just with my words or my eyes, but with my hands. I want to get lost in the flow, where movement transcends thought and you just are: in that Moment, feeling more than thinking.

Most of my “art” has been of a practical nature. Growing things that feed me, talking of things that inspire me, exchanging philosophies or ideals that will shape my actions as a person or parent. Even my photography has turned into a documentation of my practical side.

But today as I worked on decluttering and packing our “art room”, I realized how strong a pull it was to be wildly impractical. I couldn’t bring myself to pack anything. I looked at my childhood dollhouse that I want to finish. I saw the photo frames I’ve been dying to alter. I saw our paints that have sat untouched for months. And I just knew I have to find a way to do this.

Is it the impending divergence from “normal life” that has me out on a limb? I began to feel it soon after we finished painting the interior of the RV. Clean, bright, crisp, full of possibilities and one step closer to unfettered dream chasing, and I feel we’re on the brink of soaring right off.

Weeping Rock @ Zion;
thousands of years of pent up water seeping out

I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I only know I’m sucking in all I can find on creativity like a vacuum and I can feel the shine of it seeping from my eyeballs and I just gotta get my hands on something, anything. Just like these words, I want to find a way to let it all spill out.

In this moment, I don’t feel like I can Be until I can Create.

Regardless of the manic tone of this post, I hitting Publish anyway. If authenticity isn’t organic, what is?

I’ve been reading a book entitled “What We Ache For: Creativity and the Unfolding of Your Soul” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. It’s been so reflective of where I am, emotionally and spiritually – trying to find that creative muse, the things that feed me. It amazes me how she writes about exactly where I am and how I stumble across her words right as I need them. I just want to hug her.

And in this latest chapter she talked about the need for quiet places. For a pause before the inhale of creative spark, after the exhale of creative endeavour. All this right after I had trusted my instincts on creating a quiet place for myself and had decided to pull myself away from outside distractions on a regular basis.

I sometimes feel as if I’m on information and sensory overload. It’s as if I’m bombarded with thoughts, opinions, music, news, and noise almost every day, all day. And because of all these incoming “distractions” I can never really tune in to things spiritually.

Sometimes I find Zeb, sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. When we started unschooling and I found him doing this, I would think to myself “Ha! He really is doing ‘nothing’!” But he never was. He was processing; thinking on all he had experienced or heard. He was taking quiet moments to absorb everything that had been coming at him. It’s similar to how our bodies do most of their growing while we sleep.

But how many times do I, as an adult, take that same time? Time to “do nothing”. Time to absorb or reflect or simply be with the silence. Time to reenergize.

When I worked as a massage therapist, I would meet so many different people, all with the same stories. They were tired, hurting, overworked or exhausted. But they all felt guilty for taking time for themselves. I can’t pretend to know their personal lives or what their circumstances were. But one thing I knew for sure and would continuously tell them was this:

“Imagine you have a jug of water. And it is your job to take that jug and fill the cups of those around you. And you happily do your job. But at some point, you will need to stop for a moment and refill your jug. A person with an empty jug has nothing left to give.”

And yet here I am, feeling empty at times or exhausted. And those feelings reflect on my interactions with Justin or Zeb. I would chide myself or feel guilty. And because of those feelings I would never feel as if I could “treat” myself to anything – even if that treat were simply taking care of myself. As if it would ultimately be selfish of me to take more than I’m giving.

But I’ve come to the realization I’m giving little because I have so little to give. I’m not taking care of my jug and therefore their cups are going empty.

The past few weeks (since about this time) I have been realizing that I simply can’t neglect myself. I can’t fall apart for the sake of someone else. I can’t ignore my fatigue, my back pain, my knee pain, my stress. I can’t make myself into some lame martyr, dying for my cause, thus leaving them with nothing or no one.

These past couple weeks have felt so miraculous. I’ve been attending this wonderful Expressive Yoga class and have felt my back and neck and hips and knees releasing pain. I have been taking this (nasty) cod liver oil and within hours feel a sustaining energy. I’ve been breathing. Deep, full breaths where shallow ones once took over.

But mostly I’ve been making time for creativity and for silence. I know my creativity is fed through writing and photography. Whether it’s through specific writing exercises or a scavenger hunt; whether it’s by myself or with others; whether it’s shared or not; they are simply things I must do for me. They are ways I can find and focus on beauty in my life. They are things that sustain me or lift a dark mood or at least help me express it.

And the silence is so profound in its simplicity. Whether I’m unplugging from the Internet for a weekend or only turning my radio off while I drive, I always always always walk away from silence feeling free, better able to create and more joyful.

Ironically, this post is neither profoundly (or well-) written nor does it have a photograph to accompany it. But it feels good regardless, this slow meandering through only slightly related thoughts. I have many more of those thoughts but I won’t promise to share them, since I usually break those promises, don’t I?

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I have been so inspired by Amanda Soule’s The Creative Family lately.

Today we ventured out to Mt Charleston to escape the heat – and the house – and do some Nature Journaling. We each received our very own sketchbook to use on these special occasions and packed them up with bits and pieces of art supplies – colored and regular pencils, pastels, crayons, etc – to take on our hike.

The weather was a beautiful reprieve from the triple digits temps we’ve been suffering through and we managed to find a mostly unbeaten path away from the masses of other city escapees.

We explored, climbed, jumped, (huffed, puffed,) admired and discovered before finally settling down on a fallen trunk, digging out our supplies and relaxing with our journals.

After several years of art classes, self-criticism is still something we’re overcoming in Z (as well as Justin!), but I think he felt better when he saw not all of what I drew turned out how I expected it either. Like my pinecone that we decided looked more like a rib cage, which Z finished off with a skull! It certainly helped him lighten up some and just enjoy the experience – a minor breakthrough for him!

He also had fun with the camera and took some pretty good shots as Justin and I continued to draw. It was great seeing him explore his creativity, as he posed Coco for photos or experimented with different angles.

After hiking, Z suggested we not turn home yet and instead head out to Corn Creek – a desert wildlife refuge a few miles outside the city where his favorite horse “Foody” lives.

He had gone several times with his Gramma A, but never with us. He was great at giving us directions (as usual) and even gave us a guided tour of the land, pointing out where the tadpoles, frogs, crabs and birds can be found. He seemed so grown up and mature, explaining how much further until this sight or that, promising me the shade was coming up (it wasn’t as cool there as in the mountains) and telling us how to call “Foody” and feed him carrots.

We had so much fun. We rarely make the time for these kind of activities, partially because there are few things like this to do in the valley, partially because Justin’s work schedule has been erradic.

But it was obvious today that I need to search out more alternatives like these to our days. Escaping the house, the city, the day-to-day mundane seems to transform us. We need to add more creativity into our everyday lives.

If you haven’t discovered Amanda Soule’s blog or book, I highly recommend them both!

[More photos from our day here!]

In each scenarios, we are failures. Not in the grandiose way of the Titanic sinking. But in the simple avoidance of a solution.

See every seed planted, every idea, goal, task, every inspiration regardless of size came from a Grand Muse. One who does not carelessly sow. And we allow that spark of brilliance to burn out. Sure, that wall may seem too tall to climb or life may just be too hectic. But what are we to say at our account when looking back we see just how simple it could have been. Especially when put into execution by a master design.

What must be done or said in every situation is unmistakeably easy. Visually knock down that wall of opposition, verbally bash self-doubt, speak the desired goal and watch it move toward finish. We have been given a great gift. In our souls is the key to fruition. It is the image we are made in. By recognizing our spiritual connection with God on an earthly level, we simply must call it out of ourselves. Through His spirit, he fills ours with power and ability. We are intrinsically a part of Him and He a part of us. The bible says he knows the desire of our hearts, yet still says to ask. It is the power of profession. In our voice, our tongue, our words or spoken thoughts and wishes.

And to get off on a tangent… between my rekindled art of organized thought, my green tea and my own words, I’ve been thinking and growing. What sets us apart? We are organic, living, breathing mammals similar to many other creatures. What is different in us? What tangible evidence sets us above or separate?

It is our spirit, which is our thought, our voice, our intelligence, our creativity. The image we are made in is neither organic nor human, but emotional, mental energy. Everything has an energy, or exists. But we live! We feel, grow, change and create. We as humans with a Godly image have the knowledge to build, design, learn.

And it is a great responsibility, this mental capability that sets us above. It creates a choice. As organic beings, we would not be aware of an outside impact, only our singular existence, like an animal who eats, sleeps, exists rarely thinks outside of itself with the exception to offspring, but acts on instinct. But as spiritual, intellectual and emotional energy inside of organic beings, we must admit the intertwining of our lives with our surroundings.

Which leads to a great abuse of such heavenly power. The morality of being spiritual is often tossed aside. And the idea of being intellectual takes precedence. Those who deny the spiritual responsibility altogether for the intellectual benefits of creativity. And then the question is then, because we can, should we?

God giving us a choice does not say God appeals to both options.

But back to my first point: all power, life, death, creativity, ostracism, encouragement, wisdom, foolishness, and ability lies in our tongue. For our tongue releases words emanating from thought, which emanate from emotion, which emanate from spirit, which emanates from God.

Simply put, just speak it.